Not One to Cry
by menz815
Summary: The two Olivias might not be that different after all. Peter x Olivia and Alt!Livia x Lincoln mentions.


Olivia Dunham was not one to cry.

When her sister had died seven years previous, she held her mother as she sobbed through the night. All she felt was numb and alone. She didn't shed a tear until after the funeral in the privacy of her own bathroom and even then it was short-lived.

Now as she lay awake, naked, under the arm of Peter Bishop, she couldn't help but feel that same wave of helplessness seeping in through every pore of her body. She had promised herself that she wouldn't put an emotion on this. It was a job, a job that she intended to complete.

But _this_, this was personal. The way he called out _her_ name. The delicate way he held _her_. _She_ was not an assignment, not part of the job. Deceit ran heavy on her tongue.

She slipped out of bed, throwing his discarded shirt on over her shoulders and silently making her way to the bathroom. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the buttons.

As she closed the door behind her, she made a run for the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach into the white basin. She had crossed that line, that damn line that Newton had waved in her face, and she was sick with what she had done. And who she had betrayed.

Laying her head on the cold tile, the tile that was recently covered in an innocent man's blood, she could no longer fight the terror and loneliness that filled her chest. She broke down into sobs, bringing her knees up to her chest to stifle the noise.

Breathing in Peter's scent on his shirt, she could only think of Frank, and how she so badly wanted to be held in his arms at this moment. Where did he think she was? Would she ever see him again? And who would she be if he did? What kind of person was she now?

Finally she picked herself off the floor and grabbed her toothbrush. The tears continued to silently stream down her face as she methodically brushed her teeth back and forth. Back and forth. She used the repetition of the motion to steady herself, and as she calmly washed off her toothbrush, she prepared herself to become the soldier once again.

Walking back into the bedroom, she saw that Peter was awake. She offered him the best smile she could muster as he looked at her questionably.

"Are you okay?" He said sleepily.

"Yeah, I just had to go to the bathroom," she said as she climbed back into bed.

He wrapped his arms back around her, pulling her close to his chest.

Peter's last thought before he drifted back to sleep was that for the first time in weeks, her eyes looked haunted.

* * *

Olivia Dunham was not one to cry.

But when she got out of the tank, soaking wet, her head dueling two sets of personalities and memories, she succumbed to the hopelessness that ripped through her.

She had submitted to the experiments to make him go away; she knew who she was and she just wanted to go back to her life. And yet, every time he appeared she couldn't fight the nagging sensation that she was missing something. It was so close she could almost grasp it. The scariest part of it all was that she realized she was missing him. She just couldn't understand why.

And then she had slipped into the tank.

Her mind was filled with memories (because that's what they were; she was sure of that now), memories of another Walter dancing in the lab, another Astrid making god knows what in the blender smiling as Walter hummed along to the record in the player, Peter chuckling and meeting her eye from across the lab. He's smirking, and she smiles because she knows what he's thinking without a single word being exchanged. Then suddenly she's in a dark room in a place called Massive Dynamic. Peter's cradling her face; she can smell his aftershave and the coffee on his breath and feel the butterflies in her stomach as he leans in closer until she's back at home making pancakes with Rachel and Ella.

On and on it goes until she's out of the water on her back soaking wet, unsure of which Olivia is going to win out, and which one she wants to.

As she dresses in the locker room, she can't decide if she wants him to show up or not. Now that she knows who he is, who he is tothat newly awakened part of _her, _she longs to see him. To feel the stubble on his cheek, see the warm smile on his face. And yet, the other part of her is still just as confused. Those memories are now almost dream-like in quality, hazy around the edges with only a soft sense of realism. The fact is he is still in her head; the real one is in another universe with everyone else who matters. At least that's what half her heart is telling her.

It comes suddenly, but as the tears begin to fall and she sinks down to the bench, she knows that she is truly alone and that thought above all others terrifies her.

He's quiet in his approach, so she doesn't even notice him until he's placed a hand on her shoulder. She jerks away expecting to see Peter, but Lincoln meets her eye instead.

"Hey, I was worried about you," he says soothingly, sitting down beside her on the bench.

"You look better," she manages to say, trying to change the subject. She didn't want him to see her vulnerable. She had a feeling that doing that had put her in a precarious situation with him before.

"Don't try and change the subject," he scolds, placing a hand on her back. "Tell me what's wrong."

She should just lie, but she knows that if she can be honest with anyone, it would probably be Lincoln. He understands what it would mean to be taken out of the field, understands devotion to the job, and she trusts him explicitly.

"You kissed me once," she says. It's more of a question than a statement. She feels as if she watched it rather than experienced it. But the memory is still the same. She had needed a friend and he had been there. The kiss had been soft, but she had felt the electricity and desire behind it, the want for it to be more. And she had been a little too late to break it off.

"Yeah, once," he looks at her quizzically, unsure of where this is coming from.

"It meant something to me," she says, knowing that the other Olivia had never said it, knowing that it needed to be said.

He smiles then, a real genuine smile, the one that she loves so much. The lengthy silence that follows gives her the courage to say what's really on her mind.

"I'm seeing someone who isn't there. Lincoln, I'm scared." A lone tear falls from her eye.

"Don't be," he whispers, wrapping her into a hug. And as his lips brush her temple, she can't help but think about Peter and the way he had cradled her when she came out of the tank. A memory that was almost forgotten. She knows then without a shadow of a doubt that she wants to go home to where she belongs.

And as they get up to leave, and Olivia offers him her signature smile, Lincoln can't help but notice that it doesn't reach her eyes.

* * *

Please let me know what you think :D and thanks for reading!


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